


Chaos Isn't Just a Theory

by facelessoldwoman



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies)
Genre: 1990s, F/M, malcolm is kind of the worst, nontraditional families
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7642864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facelessoldwoman/pseuds/facelessoldwoman





	1. One Plus One is Two

It’s 1992 and Ian Malcolm, world famous chaotician and recent divorcee, walks along an aisle of child-sized clothing. Everything is pink and glittery and bedazzled. At his side is a seven-year-old girl in a tutu. Malcolm was already mortified enough, imagining what he must look like, a 6 foot man in all-black lurking in this haven of little girl clothing, but his daughter was pulling clothes off the hangers.

“Kelly, cut that out,” Malcolm said.

“What?” Kelly said, sticking out her lower lip and pulling another shirt off the rack.

“You know damn well what,” Malcolm said.

“You said a bad word.” Kelly crossed her arms.

“I’m an adult,” Malcolm said, “I’m allowed.”

“Mommy said you shouldn’t say bad words,” Kelly said.

All of Malcolm’s fight left him. He knew that he couldn’t challenge anything Kelly’s mother said, it might bring up the dreaded conversation: asking where mommy went, asking when mommy was coming home. He still couldn’t admit to her that her mother wasn’t coming home, not this time.

Malcolm knew it was his fault. Maybe if he wasn’t such a prick she wouldn’t have left, not without her daughter. Malcolm knew Sophie was a careless person when he married her, but he would never have dared to think that carelessness could include Kelly.

“Look, Kelly,” Malcom said, stooping down to one knee, “My goddess, my queen, my inspiration.”

“Yes?”

“I need for you to pick out some clothes because if you go back to school this year wearing clothes that don’t fit they’re going to call Child Protective Services on me.”

“I don’t like these clothes,” Kelly said, shoving a rack with a fist.

Malcolm ignored the aggression and tried to keep his tone even, “What clothes _do_ you like?”

“I wanna dress like that,” Kelly said.

In the aisle of the store there was a pair of boys in flannel and denim practicing karate kicks on each other. Malcolm wasn’t big on fashion, he wore only black so that all of his clothes matched. He figured a little flannel was a perfectly acceptable fashion choice if it meant they could leave the store before midnight.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Malcolm looked around at the bright pink clothes in the junior girls department, “Maybe we should try a different section.”

“Okay,” Kelly said, taking his hand.

They walked for a while until they found clothing racks skewed more towards green and blue than pink and pink.

“Uh, what do you think about dinosaurs?” Malcolm asked, holding up a small blue t-shirt with a cartoon stegosaurus on it.

“I love it!” Kelly said, and hugged him tight.

“Dinosaurs it is, then.”


	2. Back to Zero

It's 1994 and Malcolm is in a hospital in Costa Rica, although for all he knew it might be Honduras, or Nicaragua, or Panama. He hadn’t seen the sun in weeks. Everyone who came near him wore infection proof clothing that obscured all familiarizing features. No one spoke to him. No one even looked at him.

After the panic and chaos of the park Malcolm was happy to make it out alive, even if not all in one piece.

Malcolm’s leg was brutally mangled by the razor sharp teeth of the tyrannosaur, but the real damage came from the infection that flourished within his wounds almost immediately after he had been bitten. It was a strange powerful strand of disease that the doctors had never seen, and had no effective medicine to treat. He spent weeks cycling through fevers and rashes and bleeding, so much bleeding. His skin became paper-thin and tore easier than tissue. Gauze became his second skin, reapplied and sloughed off so often it seemed like an unending cycle.

He was quarantined from all the other patients and twice he was so close to death that they asked him if he wanted to call his next of kin. Malcolm refused- he wasn’t going to call Kelly. She was with Karen, Malcolm’s second ex-wife, a particle physicist from Princeton. They met at a conference in Bern, and their brief affair ended in an annulment after her hangover ended and she came back to her senses. Malcolm trusted Karen even if she didn’t like him very much, and she was kind enough to look after Kelly from time to time at least.

Kelly was safe with Karen, and Kelly would be much happier knowing nothing about that terrible island or the terrible things that had happened to her terrible father.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was only supposed to be a weekend, a quick vacation in Costa Rica to prove his theories about John Hammond.

Malcolm hated being right all the time.

His doctor appeared at his side, “Mr. Malcolm.”

“Doctor,” Malcolm wheezed.

“Yes?” the doctor asked.

“No,” Malcolm said, “ _I’m_ a doctor: Dr. Malcolm.”

“Well, Doctor,” the doctor smiled, “You have someone to see you.”

“Really?” Malcolm said, laughing for the first time in days, laughing so hard that it hurt. He began coughing, and his doctor swooped down to brace him back to the bed, listening to his breathing through the stethoscope to make sure that the lung infection hadn’t returned. Malcolm patted him gingerly and waved him off, saying, “Well bring them in, tell them to join the party.”

And that was when Ian Malcolm first met Sarah Harding.


	3. Solve for Ex

After a few weeks in intensive care you begin to lose your dignity, and Ian Malcolm wasn’t very proud with his bandaged leg in an elevated sling and his sweaty cotton gown hanging loose around the collar. Still, once he realized it wasn’t someone he already knew he tried his best to cover up.

“Oh,” Malcolm said.

“ _Oh_?” she said, “Were you expecting someone else?”

“I wasn’t,” Malcolm swallowed, “I, uh, I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“My name is Sarah Harding.”

Sarah had a knack for finding lost causes. She was a researcher who had just spent the last year in the Amazon working in an animal rehabilitation center. She heard about a man in Costa Rica brought to a hospital after a strange animal attack, just like the workmen who were mauled by large predators - except this man had survived. Sarah had bribed the doctors to ask them if the rumors were true, and had lied to the staff that she was the patient’s sister-in-law to be allowed to visit him.

“Hello Miss Harding,” Ian said. She looked fuzzy. He couldn’t find his glasses. “What can I do for you?”

Sarah approached him and examined his injuries, under the sodden bandages down the jagged lines of staples holding his flesh together. She didn’t seem disgusted, just curious. Malcolm wondered if she was a doctor.

“What can you tell me about the animal that did this?” Sarah asked.

“Nothing,” Malcolm grinned.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, “You don’t remember?”

“Non-Disclosure Agreement,” Malcolm said, “It’s all very hush-hush. I suspect that if I told you anything they would sequester you away, too.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Sarah scoffed, but she remembered the government officials guarding the door. They had confiscated her camera before she was allowed in, and when she would check the camera later the film would be missing.

“I don’t know how you found me,” Malcolm laughed, “I haven’t had visitors or calls in all the weeks I’ve been here. I don’t even think my lawyer knows where I am.”

“You’re in trouble with the law, Dr. Malcolm?” Sarah asked.

“Divorce lawyer, Miss Harding,” Malcolm said, “It’s the longest relationship I’ve ever had, and I have to pay her by the hour.”

“Charming,” Sarah said, ignoring him and turning her attention to the chart at the end of his bed, “It says here that it was a mechanical accident, but I don’t think so. Not with this wound pattern.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Malcolm sighed.

“Are you telling me to get lost?” Sarah asked.

“No,” Malcolm said, “I tried warning you. I see that it doesn’t make any difference.”

“I think that you’re the damsel in distress here, not me,” Sarah said, setting the chart back on his bed, “This is clearly an animal attack, and from the level of infection I’m guessing you were bitten not scratched, probably by a predator who scavenges carcasses and large game. It doesn’t match any bite pattern that I’ve ever seen and the size of the wound indicates a jawline wider than a Great White. Any of that ringing a bell, Dr. Malcolm?”

“Call me Ian,” Malcolm said.

“And now you’re flirting with me, no wonder you have your divorce lawyer on speed dial,” Sarah rolled her eyes, already moving toward the door.

“Sorry, Miss Harding,” Malcolm said, drooping back into the bed, “I couldn’t help but notice you. I’m not dead, yet.”

“You’ll be fine,” Sarah said, and before she left she turned back to say, “You’re going to need physical therapy if you’re ever going to walk on that leg again. I know a guy, if you’re interested.”

Malcolm was already turning up the morphine drip, all this sitting up and talking was making him tired.

“Good luck with your research, Miss Harding,” Malcolm said, “Give Dr. Grant my regards.”

“Dr. Grant?” Sarah asked, but before she could hear his response she was ushered out the door and down the hall.


	4. The Missing Variable

Kelly stood on the sidewalk in front of the school brushing shoulders with all her classmates, and she didn’t have to wait long before a white sedan pulled up. Kelly let out a sigh and she opened the car door to get in the backseat.

“What would you like to do today, Kelly?” Karen adjusted her rearview mirror to look back at Kelly. Kelly could only see eyes in the mirror looking back at her, but she could hear the smile in Karen’s voice.

Every day after school Kelly waited at the line of cars out front for someone to pick her up. She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t let go of the hope that her dad would be the one to pick her up. She imagined it all day: the way he would stand above the crowd all in black, the way that he would scoop her up in his arms and carry her back to the car - back home.

But every day she was disappointed. It would always be Karen.

Karen: the well-meaning scientist who took Kelly to the zoo, the natural history museum, and the library. Karen, the woman who cut off the crusts of Kelly’s sandwiches without needing to be asked and who would leave Kelly’s clean laundry folded in a neat stack on her bed on Sunday afternoons. Karen was the kind of mom that Kelly never dreamed to exist in the real world, and she was … boring.

“I want to play Sega,” Kelly said.

Karen grimaced, “I don’t _own_ any video games, you know that.”

Kelly looked down and away from the Karen’s carefully angled rearview mirror.

“Is something wrong, kiddo?” Karen asked.

“When is my dad coming home?” Kelly asked.

It was a perfectly reasonable question, one that Kelly avoided asking because it upset Karen whenever she asked. At first Kelly was only supposed to stay with Karen for a weekend, four days tops, her dad had given her his word. Now it had been an entire month and she was in a car on her way back to Karen’s house. Karen had brought over all of Kelly’s clothes and books to her house so that Kelly would feel more at home, but Kelly still had trouble sleeping in Karen’s guest bedroom.

Kelly’s birthday was in two days and her dad hadn’t spoken to her in weeks.

“Why don’t we,” Karen coughed, dabbing at her eyes, “Why don’t we go, to the arcade, huh? What do you think?”

“Yeah, okay,” Kelly said, even though she didn’t feel like playing video games anymore.


	5. What's so Great About Discovery?

Sarah Harding had a knack for attracting danger, but in her experience danger was found in remote jungles filled with growling predators and venomous prey. She was rather surprised to find that danger existed in all sorts of places, even in sun soaked beaches at private resorts on the southern coast of Costa Rica. It was the sort of place where the men who cleaned the pools carried fully loaded weapons, and the guests were ‘guests’ in name only: a person cannot visit a place if they are not allowed to leave.

Sarah tracked down the name Malcolm gave her, Dr. Grant, from his empty dig site in Montana to his various cancelled seminars in universities across the American Southwest. No one knew where he was, no one knew how to contact him. His trail was completely cold until finally Sarah Harding called the passport office and found that Dr. Grant had been booked on a private flight to Costa Rica 6 weeks ago.

Dr. Ian Malcolm was aboard the same flight.

It wasn’t easy, but Sarah found Dr. Grant under a beach umbrella on a private beach at an exclusive resort. Two young kids played in the water, under the watchful eye of Grant – though Harding could see in her binoculars that he was nodding away into a midafternoon nap from under his wide brimmed hat. She let him fall asleep and watched the children play for a while. The older sister seemed protective of the younger brother, but they still fought as all siblings do.

Sarah waited for the guards to take their lunch and for the kids to run inside. Dr. Grant still didn’t stir.

“Dr. Grant?” Sarah asked.

Dr. Grant shook awake and lifted his hat, “What?”

“I’ve been looking for you, Dr. Malcolm sends his regards,” Sarah said.

“Malcolm’s alive?” Dr. Grant said.

“Obviously, why wouldn’t he be?” Sarah asked.

“He went into shock on the plane,” Dr. Grant said, “He made a tourniquet on the island but it wasn’t enough. They wouldn’t tell us anything – who are you?”

“You were on an island, what island?” Sarah said, pulling out a notepad and a pencil from her breast pocket. Dr. Grant scowled.

“You didn’t tell me who you are,” Dr. Grant said.

“Call me Sarah,” Sarah said, “Sarah Harding.”

“Are you with them?” Dr. Grant said.

“With who?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Grant said, “With InGen, with all those bastards from the consulate, and the embassy, and the army of private security who won’t even let us take a leak without breathing down our necks.”

Sarah set down her pad, “What kind of trouble are you in, exactly, Dr. Grant?”

“How much time do you have?” Dr. Grant said.


	6. Expense and Principles

Ian Malcolm had been a troubling case. The man was brought in with mysterious wounds and he exhibited a troubling cycle of recovery and deterioration as each trial of experimental antibiotics failed. Despite treating the patient for many weeks, the man had slipped in and out of lucidity so frequently that he still regarded his doctor as a stranger.

That is why when the doctor came into the patient’s room he was genuinely surprised to find the patient sitting up reviewing his own medical records.

“And how are you feeling this morning, _Dr._ Malcolm?” Malcolm’s doctor said, emphasizing the professional title with mock sincerity – as had become his custom whenever addressing Malcolm each day. Malcolm smiled.

“Well, that depends,” Malcolm said, “Which answer do I need to give you so I can go home?”

“Home?” the doctor asked.

“Home, uh, _Estados Unidos_?” Malcolm said, “I’ve got my research, I’ve got bills to pay, someone must be looking for me.”

“My job is not to send you home; my job is to make you well,” the doctor said, “Mr. Hammond said to spare no expense.”

“I’m sure he did,” Malcolm grumbled, “Look, I need to get back. Is there any way you can transfer me to a hospital in California?”

“A person in your condition,” the doctor bit his lip, “Travel would be very dangerous.”

“I came here in a helicopter, surely I can leave in one,” Malcolm said.

“It is not the helicopter that is unsafe,” the doctor hedged, “Your health is precarious, the infection could worsen at any time and they will not be able to treat you there as we can.”

“They have hospitals in California,” Malcolm said, turning his attention back to the file in front of him. The doctor crossed his arms.

“You came to us on death’s door, Dr. Malcolm,” the doctor said, “I hope you appreciate the seriousness of your condition.”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Malcolm said, “My health doesn’t have anything to do with me being released from this hospital, does it?”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” the doctor said.

“How much are they paying you?”

“How dare you!”

“ _’Spare no expense’_ remember?” Malcolm said, “You hoping to get a new pediatric wing out of him? Maybe a couple of surgical centers?”

“I have principles,” the doctor snatched the file from his patient’s hands and began to stride to the door.

“And I have children, doctor,” Dr. Malcolm said.

It was perhaps the only thing his patient could have said to make him stop dead in his tracks. He turned to look back, where his patient was waiting, silent, and with baited breath.

“I see,” the doctor said.

“Please.”

And then he left, and when he shut the door armed guards relieved him of the confidential forms on the way out.

*          *          *

Later, in the dead quiet of night, Malcolm heard a tapping at his door. He said nothing but the door opened anyway. Who should come in but a woman in a ponytail and an old friend.

“Ms. Harding … and Dr. Grant,” Malcolm said, “What are you doing here?”

“Busting you out of here, of course,” Sarah said.

“Bout damned time,” Malcolm said. Dr. Grant grinned.


	7. Plausible Deniability

For some people work is a distraction; for other people work is home. When you work in a hospital your coworkers are your family and your patients are more important than anyone: the children born too early who might not make it through the night, the elderly man who needs help to walk through the halls, and even the scared families in the waiting room.

It’s not glamorous, but when you’re fighting a war you know you will lose - you need to remember who you are fighting for.

He certainly didn’t study medicine all those years for the stale donuts. The rations on the break room counter were the pathetic leftovers from some well-meaning orderly who arrived at work two, maybe three, shifts ago with an armful of goodies to share. What remained was not very enticing … though some of it might technically be edible (after 20 hours on call you take what you can get). He picked up a waxy cruller from the tray with a tentative napkin-padded hand.

There was a squeaking roll of wheels in the hallway outside.

While the noise was not out of the ordinary in a hospital, at this time of night any noise was a strange noise – especially on a hall of patients who were all confined to their beds.

“ _Diay_ ,” the doctor dropped the donut and called out _, “¿Quién es, uh, who's there?”_

The squeaking stopped.

He moved to open the door to the breakroom to find it stuck. He pushed harder and realized that a chair had been propped against it. He brought his back into it and shoved the door open with a great clatter that send the chair skittering away down the hall.

“Stop!” he said, not sure what was happening or who he was addressing. He saw that a patient was riding on a gurney accompanied by a man and a woman in scrubs, neither of whom he recognized but both of whom he knew for certain were impersonating medical personnel. They were waiting at the end of the hall in front of the large cumbersome hospital elevators. He knew that with a patient on a gurney they couldn’t make a run for it. He decided to make his approach.

“Just who do you think you are?” he asked, the man standing by the gurney started pushing the elevator button as hard as he could.

“Doc, calm down, please,” the man on the gurney said.

“Dr. Malcolm?” he did a double take, “What are you doing out of your room? Who are these people?”

“Dr. Grant and Ms. Harding,” Malcolm said, “Grant’s probably in the incident report they gave you, if your clearance was high enough.”

“Dr. Grant, from Montana?” the doctor said.

“You know me?” Dr. Grant said.

“ _Claro_! My son loves dinosaurs,” he said, then he turned to Sarah, “And you, you are not his sister.”

“Uh … no,” Sarah said, looking down at her hands which were clasped in Ian’s. She had no idea when that had happened, but she didn’t let go.

“Well, move aside,” he said, brushing past them to address his patient, “Let me see him, you haven’t secured him properly.”

“We didn’t mean to do any harm,” Sarah said, “I’ve secured emergency transport and sent all of his medical records ahead to Stanford.”

“You really need to leave us?” the doctor asked, and Malcolm answered with a hard stare. The doctor sighed, “Go.”

The elevator doors opened and the doctor let them inside.

“Thank you, doctor,” Sarah said.

“I didn’t see anything,” the doctor said, “But if someone tried to leave the hospital they definitely didn’t leave through the rear exit by the smoking lounge, where security would see them.”

“Where would someone leave?” Dr. Grant said.

“Oh, probably by the emergency room,” the doctor shrugged, “There are so many people down there that no one would even notice an extra stretcher.”

“Wait,” Malcolm said, holding up the door, “What’s your son’s name?”

“Hector,” he said.

“Alan,” Malcolm said, “Send the man a signed copy of your book.”

Sarah shook her head and the last thing the doctor saw as the doors closed was Malcolm winking at him.

 


End file.
